Abracdabra Dragon Shape
by HK-Revan
Summary: Apparently, you're not really an elf, you're actually an old God that got reborn into a new body because well, the last blight wasn't that pretty. But you're really lucky because you haven't been tainted so you could possible return to your old glory if you hadn't lost all your memories. Also, Flemeth just gives you looks and you're not really sure what to make of it.


A/N: Sooo I had this idea in my head and I just wanted to express it into words and humor! And all the funny stuff. Yes. Fun.

Please enjoy the ride. And I also added more stuff from the first time I wrote the idea down.

* * *

Alim Surana always knew he was different. Not the special kind of different, more like the weird kind. Alim is an elf, pointy ears, slightly shorter and thinner than most people his age. Most of the humans around were so much taller than him. Not that he minded. One can't rail against the sun for shining too brightly, and as such he cannot argue with the Maker about his height. Elves used to be different, a long time ago.  
Putting aside physical issues, there were also mental ones. Yes, mental issues.

Okay, more magical ones.

Alim Surana was absolutely terrible at magic. Well, he wasn't terribly amazing at magic, but he wasn't the genius Amell, may her small things light on fire. Amell was the Maker's gift if she weren't a mage. She was smart, tenacious, and absolutely brilliant. And most of all, she was very obedient. It was a terrible game that the mages play with the templars. If you're too good or too bad, you get turned into a Tranquil. So you got to settle at the middle, where you're not dangerous but you're not incompetent either. One would argue that surely it wasn't that bad, surely the Templars wouldn't be that unkind. Right and birds don't fly.

Sometimes, he wished he could fly and leave this horrible place. Be in the outside world, speak to other people, and not be hounded by terrifying templars. Maybe he could convince Amell to come with him.

Speaking of that particular annoyance, Amell dropped by, with a gigantic smile on her face. Dimly, Surana wondered if he could freeze her small things before she lights him on fire.

"Your Harrowing went well." Surana commented, politely. He'd learned long ago that the females of all races tend to not make sense and it was best to agree with them.

"Disappointed?"

"Not really. Then I'd be the only person that Jorwan blabbers to."

"Is he still trying to convince you that he has a girlfriend?"

"Yep. What was her name? Lily?"

"Well, good luck to you." The taller female swatted him on the shoulder. "I'd hate for the rest of your hair to go bone white."

Surana scowled, gingerly prodding his brown eyebrows. Apparently at some point, he was a brunette. The templars told him that so he wasn't sure what to believe. Magic for cosmetic use was something that isn't done. Magic placed on objects to change appearances was far safer than actual transformation, last thing Surana needs is to be called an abomination. Templars are a twitchy type of people, as if they were expecting the mages to turn them all into toads or something like that.

Amell sauntered off, no doubt to scorch some other poor apprentice with her wit.

The thought of the harrowing lingered in his mind. Apprentices talked and gossiped. There were no real secrets inside the tower. It was impossible to hide anything.

The harrowing.

He felt his chest twinge or was it his brain?

* * *

Alim Surana always knew he was different, he'd always dreamed of flying of being free. Of course anyone who had the briefest of memories of the outside world dreamed of being free. Being stuck in this tower for the rest of his life wasn't something that he enjoyed. It was a cage meant to keep the world safe from the mages. Surana knew that the templars were right in that mages were dangerous but so were bandits, so were menwith pointy sticks! No one captured people with pointy sticks and threw them into a tower. Then again, they can't make it snow indoors.

Anyways, enough of that. The real focus was the Fade. Apparently they decided to have him go through the Harrowing at three in the morning. The last thing Surana wanted was to be thrown from one dream land to another more tangible one, a more dangerous one. The fade was murky, the Black City a stark reminder of very bad things off in the distance. Despite knowing what the Black City was, Surana was sorely tempted to find a path to it. Wouldn't it be an adventure?

The Fade felt like a dream, a fine mist that pushed against his senses. This place was subject to his will, wasn't it? Surana scanned the area, frost forming from his fingertips as he touched the statue. The Fade was almost like being outdoors without the sun and the smell of flowers and the feel of grass under his feet. No, it wasn't outside, but it was something else than endless stone and steel.

Shape shifting was one of those forbidden arts, and it was so forbidden that there were books about it in the library. And books about blood magic.

Logic.

Surana may have borrowed a few books on shape shifting and may have tried to practice it in private. Maybe. Course it would turn out to be a great failure. That sort of magic required a teacher, much like blood magic. So, when he stretched his arms out in the Fade, puffed out his cheeks and said, "Abradar Dragon thingy," and actually transformed he was too shocked to say anything else.

The other guy lurking in the corner in the shape of a mouse had something to say.

"By the Maker."

Far too pleased with his new shape, Surana may have ignored that guy for a few minutes to admire his new shape.


End file.
